


Green eyes

by FangirlFromTheUnderworld



Series: Sad, angsty and bloody Destiel [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, Dean is a pshycopath, Dean is insane, Depressed Castiel, Horror, Kidnapped Castiel, Killing, SPOILERS major character death, Saddness, Suicidal Castiel, Torture, Torturer Dean, be warned, don't read if you don't like these things, horror kind of, kidnapper Dean, maybe destiel if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-07-19 02:42:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7341373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangirlFromTheUnderworld/pseuds/FangirlFromTheUnderworld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel gets kidnapped, and next thing he knows he's in some strangers basement with the scent of chloroform still clogging up his nose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Cas woke to the feel of cold hard cement on his cheeks, and an aching in his head. The smell of chloroform still hung inside his nose like smoke. 

The basement he was lying in was unfinished, with cement floors and walls lined with a few shelves with canned food stacked on them. Pushed up against one wall was a small wooden table, and next to that was a bucket and mop. Cobwebs hung in every corner of the small box of a basement, and they shimmered in the dull light brought in from the shoebox-sized window near the ceiling. The rest of the room was dark, so that Castiel couldn’t make out details. In front of him, there was a large brown-red stain on the floor. When he shifted his legs experimentally, something metal clinked and he flinched so hard he jumped. The basement was silent.

When he looked at the chain cuffed to his right ankle leading to a peg in the wall, He noticed a brown box sitting up against the wall, made of cardboard and falling apart, with punctures in the sides of it. Maybe 6 feet away from where his chain ended in the wall. Something shiny glinted inside the box. 

Castiel’s still hazy and drugged mind hadn’t yet caught up to the fact that he was chained to the wall of a stranger’s basement, with chloroform still tainting his smell.So, he just started to sit up, slowly with the help of his rubbery arms. Strange curiosity about the cardboard box propelled him to drag himself up to his hands and knees, and crawl to the box. His chain tugged harshly against his ankle when he was about 4 feet from the box, and he pulled up short, kneeling upright so he could see into the box. 

Nestled in the cardboard, he could see through bleary eyes there were tool in there. They looked like yard tools at the first look, but as he leaned against the chain, he noticed knives tucked into the box, screwdriver-looking things that he realized were icepicks, an electronic drill, a small serrated machete and a couple bolts of nylon rope and twine. The tools all had a brownish stain on them, and his foggy mind jolted clear when he realized the sharp pointy ends of the ‘yard tools’ were coated thinly in dried blood. He Castiel fell back when he came to this conclusion, and suddenly he remembered. Walking his normal route home from work, getting stopped by a stranger and giving directions to a library some 5 blocks the other direction. The green eyed man thanked him, smiled, and then the next thing Castiel knew there was a sickly sweet smelling white cloth being pressed over his nose and mouth. He remembers scratching the man’s hands trying to get away, and hoped that he left marks in his kidnapper’s skin. 

And he sat there, in the middle of an unfinished basement, looking at the box of torture devices sitting near him. He was chained to a wall, a few feet away from a large brown stain he know knew was blood, with canned food all around him and no visible way to get out of the basement. He started sweating, nervous and panicky. And a little sick, like he was going to throw up. 

Castiel must have sat in that basement for hours, looking at the table opposite him and thinking in circles about his situation. 

A door squealed somewhere above him, and stomps echoed down the basement. Someone came out of a stairwell he hadn’t noticed before, tucked into the wall and so narrow that only one person could go up at a time. The green eyed man, his captor, stepped into the meager window light, and looked at Cas hungrily. Like a dog looks at a squirrel. Castiel felt like throwing up more than ever, but he just looked as hatefully as he could at the man, and said “So you didn’t need directions to the library.”

The man looked surprised at that, and actually barked a laugh. “Yeah, no shit sunshine.” He said, still looking at Castiel with that hungry dog look. 

He had sandy blond hair, short and spiky. He was wearing a flannel shirt with a black t-shirt under it, and faded blue jeans with steel toed boots. He looked tall, maybe 6 feet. This man exuded a dangerous feeling from himself, and Castiel got the feeling that he could kill him in about 10 different ways with that Nylon rope he saw in the box. 

He slowly got to his feet, and confirmed the suspicion that this man was at least 6 feet tall. He was a bit taller than Cas. The cement floor was rough under his feet, and he looked into the man’s eyes, forcing himself to remain calm. “What do you want with me?” 

“Just some fun. It won’t take that long, I promise. Then you can…..go back to your life.” The man hesitated, and Castiel got the feeling he was lying. His stomach flipped as he watched the man glance back at the cardboard box. 

“You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?” It was less of a question than a statement. Green eyes looked back at Cas and smiled creepily. 

“Looks like I picked up a smart one. Most people don’t look so calm once they figure that one out though.” The man said.

“Who are you?” Castiel asked sharply, hoping he would tell him. Maybe if he escaped he could find an authority figure and get this man dealt with. 

 

“The name’s Dean.” Green eyes said easily. Surprised at how readily the man answered, Castiel must’ve let his composure slip because the man said “Oh don’t look so surprised. Don’t matter if you know my name, you’re not going to have much of a chance to tell anybody.” 

Castiel noticed that his hands were shaking subtly, and Dean smiled. “I already know your name. Castiel Novak. Been tailing you a little bit, figuring out your routine, getting to know you a bit.” He purred out Castiel’s name, and Castiel shivered with disgust. He froze at Dean’s next words. “Your sister is very pretty.”

Lunging, Castiel stepped into the man’s space, anger and fear making adrenaline pump through him. “If you touch Anna,” He hissed at the man, “I will make you regret it.” He was bold enough to grab the collar of the man’s flannel collar, yanking it against his throat.

A sharp slap made his head snap to the side, and Dean’s hand was imprinted in red on Castiel’s cheek. He fell to the side, and Dean stood where he was, glaring at Castiel, joking demeanor dropped for a menacing one. His eyes were angry, and Castiel regretted his outburst, remembering the tools. 

“Don’t touch me.” Dean spat, dusting off his collar with sharp brushes of his hands. Castiel straightened back up, but stepped back from Dean, hugging his elbows and feeling his cheek sting. Dean’s face was calm but angry around the eyes, and his fists were clenched. “Well, I hate to cut the chit-chat short, but I’m not feeling much like talking right now.” Then Dean punched him hard in the gut, and Castiel crumpled over immediately, groaning involuntarily. He slid to the floor, and tried to push himself away from Dean fruitlessly. 

When Dean stamped hard on his hand, Castiel let out a cry of agony, feeling the bones crunch and shift under the skin. “Ooooh, I like a screamer.” Dean crooned, his better mood apparently back. Castiel tried to sit up, curling his hand to his chest, But Dean kicked him hard in the side and sent him sprawling onto his back. He groaned, the movement jarring his hand, and he felt his back cry out at the roughness of the cement on his skin He watched in horror as Dean hefted a hammer in his hand, whacking it into the wall for a test swing, and the brick cracked from the force of the swing. Castiel started pushing himself away from Dean and the hammer, breathing harsh and shallowly. His chain however tightened, and he struggled at the end of the rope. 

Castiel started screaming when Dean started walking to him with the hammer swinging in one hand. “Help! Help! Please Help me! Help!” They fell uselessly in the basement, and he was interrupted by the blinding pain a second later. 

Dean grabbed Cas’s collar, chain pinned down under one foot, and swung his hammer directly into Castiel’s closed mouth. Castiel uttered a muffled scream at the agony ripping through his face, he felt his teeth fracture and crack off, and blood gushed from his mouth. He choked on it, and gagged horribly. Dean grabbed his face in both hands and opened his mouth wide by squeezing it hard. Castiel cried out, pain numbing all his senses as Dean reached into Cas’s mouth and pulled out something dull pink and red. Tears started leaking down his face as Castiel looked at his tooth, and Dean crouched in front of Castiel, admiring his tooth. 

The manic glint in Dean’s eyes alone was enough to make Castiel want to cry. He watched as Dean got up from his crouch and walked over to the box. He looked away long enough to watch blood drip into his lap from his mouth. And then Dean crouched over him again with tweezers, and grabbed Castiel’s face again. Looking into his eyes, Dean purred “Buckle up buttercup, this is going to hurt a lot.”

Castiel looked into those green eyes, and he closed his own. This was going to hurt a lot.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here you go Ellie, I told you I would make a second part. That was almost 3 months ago, I'm sorry, but I just couldn't find time to right. I'm very fond of Dean's dialouge in this, so comment if you liked it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go Ellie, I told you I would make a second part. That was almost 3 months ago, I'm sorry, but I just couldn't find time to right. I'm very fond of Dean's dialouge in this, so comment if you liked it!

A week later, Castiel was ready. 

He was so ready to die. To end it all. 

He had sobbed until his nose and eyes ran dry, he had begged, he had layn silently, he had cursed. He had cursed Dean, his captor, who intended to do nothing burt hurt him and mutilate his body before he ran out of ideas and dumped him somewhere remote. He had cursed god, who had seemingly left him to rot slowly in this dry cold basement. He had cursed the thick metal chain connecting him to the wall, for leaving a blistery rash on his malnourished skin. He had cursed his stomach, for betraying him when he tried to make himself believe he wasn’t hungry after 3 days of starvation. 

And then the three days became five. Then six. And now, on the seventh day, he felt that if a lightning bolt were to fly through his roof of floorboards and strike him dead, it wouldn’t be so bad. He might be in heaven. He might go to hell. Either way, he would be out of here. 

His toothless mouth ached, his gums sat unpleasantly naked on top of eachother, so sore from the impromptu dentistry that Dean had performed on him that he couldn’t moved his mouth without tearing up. His hand was ruined, crushed beyond repair by the same pair of steel toed boots on multiple occasions. His lungs were having immense difficulty keeping him oxygenated, every inward pull of his chest resulted in agony. Again, the steel toed boots were mainly to blame for that, though Dean had made good use of his sledgehammer. His arms perpetually arched, muscles stretched to the breaking point from hanging solely by them for hours, feet dangling tantalizing inches from the ground. His muscles, (what few he had possessed before being kidnapped) had dissipated, and even though he didn’t have a mirror he could tell he was painfully thin. He couldn’t think straight, He couldn’t summon energy. His body was breaking itself down for fuel, but he was all out. He wanted so badly just to have the curtains close, for the screen to fade to black. 

Now, he was simply silent. He let the silence fill everything, until Dean came down and pried fresh screams from him with some tool from the box. But after Dean left, he lapsed back into the nothingness, not even his stomach could pierce the gloom because it had stopped rumbling. Just his breathing, quiet as it was, was heard. 

 

He had lain in the silence and dusty gloom all day before Dean came down. His footsteps triggered Castiel’s mood, sending it from resigned serenity to a boiling tension. Soon the hollow thump of wood boards transformed into the scraping sound of cement, and Dean’s boots came into view from where Castiel was lying curled on the floor. 

“Hey sunshine.” Dean nudged Castiel gently with the toe of his boot. When Castiel didn’t respond in any way, he kicked him in the ribs. Castiel groaned, and looked up into the green eyes he had learned to hate. “I said hey sunshine!” 

Castiel shifted back into his previous position, and Dean gave a hard sigh. “I’m glad I’m dumping your ass today. You’re no fun anymore.” 

The words washed over Castiel like a wave. But he was so tired. Just, so tired. He registered one fact though, one fact that made his breathing come just a little faster than before. Dean was dumping him. Dean was getting rid of him. He was going to be out of this place. He might see the sky before he died. He might be killed with a gun, it might be merciful. It might be quick. But knowing Dean, that was less likely to happen then him getting rescued. 

The boots walked out of his range of sight and he heard something being fiddled with. Metal things shifting. Then Dean started speaking. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had a lot of fun with you. In fact, I might actually be sad to see you go. I don’t think I’ve had this much fun in years!” Castiel could hear the smile in his voice. “Screamers are the best. And you just have the prettiest voice. It’s really too bad you don’t talk anymore, I enjoyed it when you did. Death threats are always so fun to hear when they’re empty, aren’t they?” 

Dean walked back to him, unraveling a long rope with a metal clip at the end with his hands. Roughly, Castiel was dragged upwards by his armpits, and before he could make a weak attempt to stop it a faint scream escaped his lips. His ribs wailed in agony, grinding against each other in the disorganized mess that was his chest. His vision went briefly white from the pain, and when it came back he found he was crushed against Dean’s chest while his captor tied the rope around his torso. It pulled taut under his arms, and suddenly he was hanging from his armpits with the cold floor barely under his numb feet. Dean was walking to the wall opposite him, hoisting the rope to it and tying it onto a small metal hook embedded near the ceiling. Castiel dangled awkwardly, arms angled outwards from the painful pinch of the rope. 

His ribs were still screaming, and they showed no sign of stopping. He could barely breathe without gasping quietly in pain. He watched murkily as Dean walked back to him with a small smirk playing across his lips. Then he noticed the dirty rag that was dripping in Dean’s hand, something clear. Was he being chloroformed again? 

He flinched a bit as Dean raised the rag to his face, and stiffened when Dean began to roughly wipe the dried blood from his forehead. Surprised faintly flowered in his stomach, but any emotion other than sadness and resignation didn’t take hold for much longer than a few minutes in this version of Castiel. 

“Can’t drive your ass around looking like this, can I?” Dean explained, scrubbing painfully hard at Castiel’s cheek to get some of the older rustic brown flakes off. “What if someone looked in my car? And when they find your body, I’m sure you want to be looking your best.” 

Far from sending him deeper into his hole of despair, the mention of ‘his body’ sent little tendrils of hope into Castiel. Maybe it would be today. Maybe he wouldn’t have to wait another miserable 24 hours to get his wish. 

But soon, as Dean moved from Castiel’s chest to his torso, that hope was drowned by the groans and screams Dean was rending from his victim. He roughly wiped at Castiel’s ribs, scrubbing them mercilessly as Castiel felt his ribs creak and groan. Dean didn’t skirt around the wounds inflicted by the hammerhead, just thoroughly cleaned the bloody puncture-like holes like you would clean a piece of furniture, making Castiel howl and struggle a bit against the rope. Dean smiled with all his teeth, looking Castiel in the eyes as he swirled the rag around a piece of protruding bone.

Soon after, he passed out. 

 

 

When he woke up, he didn’t feel much better. 

The first thing he was aware of was the ropes on his arms and legs, binding him like a cocoon. He couldn’t scoot an inch if he wanted to. 

The second thing he became aware of was the pain. It was spider webbing across his body, which was aggravated and felt like it had been scrubbed thoroughly. Which it had. 

The third thing he became aware of was the rocking motion, like he was being carried bridal-style. It was part of the reason he was in so much pain. 

The fourth thing he became aware of, was the fact that he was outside. 

When his eyes foggily opened, he saw black. Then he noticed the stars. They were scattered across the black, and when he recognized them he realized he was looking at the night sky. And not through a window, for he could now feel a chilly breeze whispering across his decimated body. He had barely time to marvel at this before something that sounded like a car door was opened, and he was thrown inside a cold enclosed space. 

His face was smushed up against leather, and he couldn’t open one of his eyes. Something rumbled loudly, and whatever he was in (it was almost definitely a car) started to vibrate. Then it started to move. And his earbuds were almost blasted out by rock music being played as loudly as the volume controls would let it. 

He laid there for what seemed like just a few short seconds, until the rumbling of the car ceased, and there was a couple loud bangs as Dean opened and closed the doors to the car. Soon, Castiel’s car door was wrenched open, and cold air washed over his skin making goosebumps prickle to the surface. Dean seized his feet and dragged him swiftly from the seat, and he crashed to the ground. He groaned loud enough for it to be a scream, and Dean hissed at him “Shut the hell up.” 

Then Dean proceeded to drag him upwards by his armpits, and then cradle him roughly into an awkward bridal carry. Castiel was almost bent in half laying in Dean’s arms, and the pain in his body was excruciating. Dean started to walk. 

With every jossle Castiel’s vision got foggier, so he tried to figure out where they were while he could. 

He could feel some sort of moisture on his skin, maybe it was drizzling? His stomach leapt in his stomach. He had missed the rain. No light pricked his eyes, it was definitely deep night, maybe after midnight. He picked up the sound of steel-toed boots crunching on gravel. Driveway? Probably not. Trail in the woods? Maybe….

Tonight was the night. The night it would all end. His shriveled body would be released, he would be shot or stabbed or left to just die in nature. But he would be free. 

Suddenly Dean stopped, Castiel was propped against something wooden, something very uncomfortable. He could feel the splinters digging into his back. Dean’s hands left his back and grabbed his thighs, and his back arched painfully over the wooden thing, and he was dangling upside down in free air. The blood rushed to his head, and his vision filled with TV static. He could hear water rushing below him. He was dangling over the edge of a bridge. 

“Well, here we are. Sorry to let you go so soon.” Dean said, sounding vaguely regretful. “I think you know where we are. Worthington bridge. It’s a really great spot to dump things you know, and the sunsets are to die for.” 

Of course. Worthington Bridge. The biggest drop in town, with 120 feet of water between the bridge and the rocky river bed below, it wasn’t a plunge that Castiel’s starved decimated body would survive. He felt so thank for that. It would be a quick death. 

He didn’t say anything, as the way he was dangling was making it hard for him to breath. He wished dearly that Dean would let go soon, suffocating would be such a terrible way to die. And the grip on his thighs was becoming painful. 

“Well? Say something. Or not, the others never really said anything either. Guess it’s kinda hard to talk when you’re upside down.” Dean adjusted his grip so that he was hold Castiel’s hips, a less painful approach but Castiel just wanted to fall. Who cared what Dean wanted to say?

“You know the drill, parting is such sweet sorrow yada yada yada. Maybe when they find your body they’ll stop posting those pity articles in the newspaper for you. Does anybody care about you besides your high school english teacher?” Castiel didn’t even feel embarrassed. It was true. Nobody would miss him, the closest he had ever been with anybody was when he and Mr. Johnson (the english teacher) sat together at lunch. His family wouldn’t care about him, they probably hadn’t noticed he was gone. He hadn’t spoken to them for a few weeks. Maybe Balthazar would notice, he liked to crash on Castiel’s couch after particularly wild drug tests, maybe if the door was locked and the lights were out his absence would be noticed?

“Silence then, if that’s what you want.” Dean continued, not sounding like he cared too much. “I’m just gonna talk for a little longer, then I’ll let you go. Because I know you wanna’ go, you just haven’t told me. I guess that was polite. But am I really so bad?” Here he grinned, like Castiel was weird to want to be rid of the company of his jailer and torturer. “I mean sure, I took ya and maybe you haven’t been enjoying yourself as much as you could have, but you’ve been away from the world haven’t you? Away from responsibilities, jobs, debts, deaths, basically everything you could think of. You didn’t have to do anything! I guess eating is included in that. Sorry, you are looking a little thin buddy.” 

He patted Castiel’s sunken cheek, leaning over and letting his body slip a little on the railing, making a gasp slip out of Castiel’s mouth involuntarily. Dean shushed him, patting his stomach comfortingly. “It’ll be over soon.” 

He hoped so, his body was really starting to hurt a lot. So much pain, so many words. Would Dean ever shut up? He looked straight forward, he could barely see the water from his position. The blood in his head was like helium in a balloon, but far too much of it. It felt like his head would pop soon, like a blister. 

He realized Dean had been talking. Who cares? He was focused on his own problems, Dean could stick his up his ass. Oh Dean would miss having a chew toy boo hoo, he would just move on to the next sorry man or woman who he took a liking to. 

Dean’s voice faded back into his ears. “-episode 4, which is one of the best ones. But anyways, I got kind of off topic”- Dean did do that a lot. Especially when discussing anything Star-Wars related. “-but I guess now is goodbye. I hope you’re happy in the next life, my friend. This bridge isn’t the worst way to go, I think it’s like skydiving, but you have a more permanent destination.” 

Castiel just hung, and he faintly heard Dean sigh. Then suddenly…..

He was falling. 

The feeling of air whipping at his back, with nothing all around him was foreign, it delighted him. He would end his life with a new experience. He could hear the water getting closer, and he could feel emotions rising in his stomach like vomit. He was happy to end it, he was happy to be away from the green eyed man who had been his final companion, he was scared, he was terrified of what would come next. He was sad, for the family he had left behind, who could care less about him in general. And there was so much he had yet to do, meet a girl, get married have kids. He was missing out on life’s joys and sadness, only being soaked in the bad things, in blood and shit and guts. And-

Smack

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Thank you for making it through this, and I know it doesn't have a very good ending, but tell me how you liked it! Or didn't like it, I'm open to hate comments too.


End file.
